


Clean

by cherrystreet



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Louis, Canon Compliant, I'm sorry Mum, M/M, Pining, Smut, Top Harry, non-au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:18:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5447975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherrystreet/pseuds/cherrystreet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been a long time since Louis last kissed Harry, and they’ve never once talked about it. In five years, they’ve had hundreds of shows, just as many meet-and-greets, countless interviews, a never ending string of photoshoots, so many stolen glances, it would be impossible to count, and zero conversations about what it felt like having his lips pressed against Harry’s in the sweetest, most demanding way possible. They’ve never mentioned it.</p><p>Until now.</p><p> </p><p>It's the night of The X-Factor finale of 2015, and Harry feels like he has some unfinished business with the boys, especially Louis. Louis can hardly breathe.</p><p>---</p><p>
  <a href="http://cherrystreet.tumblr.com/post/138520137537/title-clean-author-anonhere-pairing">Tumblr</a>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean

**Author's Note:**

> For SSF, who wouldn't let me stop writing, even when I told her I hated this and hated her.

     The last time Louis kissed Harry, he had soft, wispy hair that swept across his forehead, and square-framed glasses that _always_ slipped down the bridge of his nose. He wore pants that were too big and shirts that were too small; he spent the majority of the day tugging his clothes into place, and flicking his hair out of his eyes. He’d finally lost the majority of his baby fat, but he still didn’t feel like a man. Not yet, anyway. And Harry was no better off. He had a thick set of brown curls that were so tight, they didn’t move, unless he (or Louis) was running his fingers through them. He, too, wore oversized clothes that hid his awkward 16-year-old body, and he shyly told Louis to knock it off whenever he tried to slide his freezing hands under his enormous t-shirts and Polos. He was self conscious of the baby fat that stuck to his hips and just under his belly button. He never believed Louis when he told him how much he loved it.  
     The last time Louis kissed Harry, he had never been to London prior to the competition. The city was buzzing and bold, not unlike himself, and he felt electric whenever he thought about the fact that this was really happening to him, for him. London listened to a lot of Louis’ secrets that year, as he whispered them against Harry’s neck into the darkness at night, long after everyone had fallen asleep.  
     The last time Louis kissed Harry, he only had four siblings, four sweet girls who had no idea how much their lives were about to change. His mum was going through a divorce and Louis was losing a father, for the second time. Harry would soothe him, telling him he knew what divorce felt like, and whenever Harry pressed the length of his body down against Louis’, making it difficult to breathe, it was only then that he didn’t feel like he was suffocating under the weight of his entire life. Ironic, that.  
     The last time Louis kissed Harry, he was referred to as a ball of nervous energy, constantly pranking the competitors, the camera crew, his own band. He was loud and could hardly sit still. Liam was usually annoyed by his behavior, Zayn would attempt to ignore him until his façade would crack and he’d break out into laughter, and Niall would be chuckling and snorting from the start. But he always found himself searching for Harry’s gaze; he never had to look too far. He could spot that dimple from a mile away, always prominent as long as Louis was around.  
     It’s been a long time since Louis last kissed Harry, and they’ve never once talked about it. In five years, they’ve had hundreds of shows, just as many meet-and-greets, countless interviews, a never ending string of photoshoots, so many stolen glances, it would be impossible to count, and zero conversations about what it felt like having his lips pressed against Harry’s in the sweetest, most demanding way possible. They’ve never mentioned it.

     Until now.

* * *

     It’s December 13, 2015, and today will be the last live performance One Direction will put on for years. Louis is having trouble swallowing. He knew this day was coming, he was looking forward to it, but now that it’s here and it’s happening, he wants to freeze time. He isn’t ready.

     He’s nervously biting his lower lip, squeezing his eyes shut, silently begging his heart to quit beating so fucking fast when he gets a knock at the dressing room door. He opens his eyes and makes no move to open it, giving Liam a look that says _I’m not getting up_. Liam rolls his eyes and stands up from his spot next to Louis, reaching for the door. When he pulls it open, Louis feels a pit in the bottom of his stomach.  
     Harry is standing there, eyes red-rimmed, visibly upset. His brows are furrowed in the way they always are when he’s being serious or thinking too hard.  
     Louis must look as panic stricken as he feels because Harry’s gazes softens. “I’m okay, I swear.”  
     Liam shoves Harry backward, causing him to lose balance and nearly take Liam down with him. “Lead with that, then!” Harry smiles, but Louis can tell it’s forced.  
     “Actually, I just wanted to talk to each of you.” He pauses. “Alone.”  
     Liam makes a face at Louis, then turns back to Harry. “What about?”  
     Harry shrugs, absentmindedly scratching along his jaw. “I dunno. It’s just gonna be a while before we’re all together on a regular basis again and I had some stuff I wanted to say to you before tonight was over. Already talked to Niall.” Louis can’t help but notice how uncharacteristically nervous Harry seems. It’s unsettling, but it also makes him feel marginally better.  
     Liam reaches out and squeezes Harry’s shoulder. “Sure, mate. Now?”  
     Harry nods, dragging Liam out into the hallway, closing the door softly behind him.

     They’re gone for nearly 20 minutes, and in that amount of time, Louis has wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers nine times, checked his phone seven times, and thought about smoking a cigarette right there in the dressing room three times. He watches the second hand on the clock rotate slowly, and he thinks if he has to watch it strike the 12 one more time, he’s going to scream.  
     When Harry finally knocks on the door again, Louis feels like he’s going to jump out of his skin, unable to decipher whether his nerves are because of the show, because of Harry, or a combination of the two. He crosses the room to the door and steps back so both boys can enter, but only Harry is in front of him. As if reading his thoughts, Harry mumbles, “I sent Liam away for a bit.”  
     Louis nods and gestures for Harry to make his way into the dressing room. The door clicks shut behind them, locking automatically.  
     They sit on the couch together, side by side, as they have so many times over the past five years, and as much as they say they’re still the same boys from the very beginning, Louis can’t help but think how much they’ve changed. Harry specifically. He’s tough now - learned long ago how to take a punch from the media and roll with it - and it’s obvious how confident he’s become. And rightfully so. His hair is wild with fashion choices to match, and Louis has to blink the thoughts away whenever he thinks about how gorgeous Harry’s become throughout their time together. This version of Harry is just as lovely as the first version of Harry that Louis ever knew, but if he had to choose, he’d choose this one.  
     Louis waits patiently for Harry to start talking, suddenly aware of how dry the air in the dressing room is. He clears his throat at the same time Harry begins to talk.  
     “Oh, sorry, what were you gonna say, Lou?”  
     “No, go ahead.”  
     “It’s okay, what did you want to say?”  
     Louis shakes his head and looks directly at Harry. They both stare for a moment, and then burst out laughing.  
     “This is so dumb,” Harry says, still giggling. “This shouldn’t feel awkward, and it does. Why does it feel awkward?”  
     Louis smiles down at his hands. “I dunno, mate. Probably because you’re making me feel so fucking nervous and uncomfortable and you won’t spit it out.” He pauses, winks. “Or maybe because I’m too beautiful and you don’t know how to handle it.”  
     Harry smirks. “Probably the latter.”  
     Louis knows Harry is teasing, but he feels his pulse pick up, regardless.  
     “Okay,” Harry says, suddenly very serious. “Okay. I just need to make sure you know what you mean to me. You know, right?”  
     Louis stills, then shivers. “I think I have an idea.”  
     Harry sniffles. “It’s important to me that you know, because this is the last time we’re doing this together for a long time, and sometimes life gets in the way, and I don’t know when I’m gonna see you next. And that kind of breaks my heart, Lou.”  
     Louis digs his nails into his palm. Harry continues.  
     “These past five years have been so fucking hard. Like, just never ending bullshit sometimes. You know. You get it.” Louis nods in confirmation. “But having you and Niall and Liam…” He trails off, his breathing a bit shaky. “Having you, Louis, has meant the world to me. Even when we weren’t talking, or felt like we couldn’t be talking. Through all of the absolute _garbage_ we’ve endured since we met, I’ve always felt so safe and so happy, just because we were in this together. I always felt like I was yours and you were mine, even when I knew that wasn’t true.”  
     Louis absolutely, positively cannot speak, cannot move, cannot think of anything other than _Harry_.  
     “I know we went through some rough patches of not being super close, and that’s okay. You were always there if I really needed you, even if it was hard for you to pretend--”  
     “I wasn’t pretending, Harry,” Louis says, finding his voice, cutting Harry off.  
     Harry’s brows furrow again. “I mean, like, I know you’ve always cared about me, but I know we went through some periods when it wasn’t always easiest to be there for each other, yeah?”  
     Louis can’t look at Harry. It hurts too much to hear that out loud. It’s one thing to think it in secrecy, but to hear Harry admit how forced their friendship was is agonizing.  
     Harry puts his hand on Louis’ thigh. “It's not like that anymore. It's okay. It is. All I wanted to say is… Louis, you’ve been my best friend since the day I met you. It wasn’t a coincidence, you and me. You’ve always been my missing puzzle piece. And I wanted to say thank you for being there, even if it was just in the background, I knew I could always count on you to be there. You’re just absolutely brilliant, Lou. I’m so lucky to know you the way I do.”  
     Louis grabs Harry’s hand in his own, squeezing tightly. “I am the biggest dick on the planet. I can’t believe…” He takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “Harry, I am so fucking sorry. God, you will never know how sorry I am.”  
     Harry frowns, obviously confused, and waits for Louis to speak again.  
     Louis laces their fingers together, the most intimate contact they’ve had in _years_ , and he knows Harry is aware of that too, based on the way his hand trembles in his own.  
     “I cut you out until I couldn’t bear it anymore. And I hurt you. I knew it hurt you, and I just kept going. We only had a relationship on stage… If that.”  
     Harry’s face remains stoic; Louis knows he’s remembering their last tour together, when he actively ignored Harry for nearly an entire year. And then, his face crumbles. “I never asked. But… Why?”  
     Louis tries to swallow once, twice. He knows if he doesn’t say this now, he never will. But feeling the words on the tip of his tongue doesn’t scare him as much as he thought it would. “At the beginning of last year, I got pissed and told Zayn about the time you and I had kissed, and the drunker I got, the more I told him. Told him I still thought about it all the time, and how badly I wanted to do it again. Like, not a normal reaction to kissing someone one time. But you were always there, always in front of me. How was I supposed to think about anything else? Fuck.” Louis swallows. “I told him so much shit, Harry, and by the end of it, I was fucking crying and it was so _embarrassing_ , especially since it had been so long and we were on totally different pages. And I told Zayn the only thing I was more afraid of losing than you was our band. So he helped keep me away from you, until I could finally get over it, finally stop fucking thinking about it. And that’s what worked, up until Zayn left.”  
     Harry is completely frozen, and Louis immediately regrets it. He tries to pull his hand from out of Harry’s grip, but Harry squeezes harder. Too hard, almost.  
     After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Harry speaks. “So, we’re finally going to talk about that, after five years?”  
     Louis chokes back a laugh. “Guess so.”  
     “Louis, I had no idea.”  
     He nods. “That was kind of the point, I suppose.”  
     Harry doesn't say anything. Neither does Louis. He can nearly hear the clock ticking on the wall across the room.  
     When Harry starts moving his thumb slowly across Louis’ knuckles, Louis knows now is the time to spill all his secrets. If he doesn’t in this exact moment, he never will. He makes eye contact with Harry, and it’s nearly scorching. He takes a deep breath. “Never told you, because I assumed it was obvious, but fuck, Harry, I was so crazy about you.”  
     Harry’s face goes completely red. Louis hasn’t made Harry blush in so long. Too long. “Okay,” Harry whispers. “What about now?”  
     “Fuck, Harry, I _am_ so crazy about you.”  
     Harry nearly chokes. “Lou,” he murmurs.  
     Louis ducks his head down, resting it on Harry’s shoulder. “‘m so sorry, H. I knew it was shitty, to try to cut you out, but I had to. To try to keep my fucking sanity. Clearly it was just a bunch of time wasted, yeah? Never really got fully over it. And I don't think I realized that until right now. I'm just really sorry.”  
     Harry presses a kiss to the top of Louis’ head. “It’s okay, Lou. I just…” He trails off, and sighs. “I’m just so tired of missing you.”  
     Louis sits up, nearly knocking his head into Harry’s jaw. He bites his bottom lip. “What if… What if you didn’t have to miss me anymore? And I was always there?”  
     Harry’s voice is uneven and a little timid when he says, “Louis, don’t say that kind of stuff if you don’t mean it, okay? I’ve spent _years_ imagining those words come out of your mouth, _years_ trying to remember what you taste like, _years_ thinking about what you would look like underneath me, and if this is just an impulsive thing for you, something you haven’t put any thought into, I can’t do it. I can’t. I’m…”  
     His eyes are glistening, and Louis _hates_ it. His heart is pounding as he wipes his thumb under Harry’s eyes, collecting tears, murmuring promises, telling Harry that it’s different now, that he isn’t afraid anymore. And now that the words have started tumbling out, they won't stop. He whispers just how gorgeous he finds Harry, that he can’t stop thinking about him, and Harry leans in dangerously close, pressing his own thumb to Louis’ bottom lip, dragging it with precision. Louis nearly goes cross-eyed.  
     “Can I kiss you?”  
     Louis has spent countless hours reliving his last kiss with Harry. He remembers the way they were pressed together, head to toe, Louis in Harry’s jumper, blankets draped over them in Harry’s bunk. He knew Harry wanted him to kiss him, based on the way he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Louis’ lips. Harry had put his fingers in Louis’ hair, scratching and digging his nails in - felt _so_ good - but it wasn’t enough. Eventually, Louis worked up the courage to move closer, and brushed his nose against Harry’s. Harry’s eyes fell shut, breathing almost comically heavy, and that's when Louis closed the gap between him, pressing his lips against Harry’s. Harry had immediately cupped Louis’ cheek in his hand, holding his face steady, feeling his jaw work as he dipped his tongue inside Harry’s mouth. Louis remembers Harry whimpering, kissing back harder, pushing his hips forward. Louis felt dizzy with it, how badly he wanted all of Harry, how badly he wanted to give him everything he had.  
     And now, Harry’s eyes locked with Louis’, fingers and breathing intertwined, Louis is just as dizzy as he was the first time his lips connected with Harry’s. They haven’t had their second kiss yet, and somehow, it’s already infinitely better.  
     With his eyes closed, he whispers, “Yeah, Haz.” The giant weight on his shoulders is lifted the moment he feels Harry’s mouth on his for the first time in five years.  
     Harry tastes like citrus and relief. Louis runs his tongue along Harry’s bottom lip, their fingers still locked together, and he can’t believe this is happening. He convinced himself this wasn’t something that was attainable, kissing Harry, gripping his inner thigh, hearing his breath quicken at his touch. And now that it’s real, he can’t let it go. He won’t give up on this, ever.  
     Louis shifts closer, grabbing Harry’s neck, and pulls himself up. He breaks the kiss only momentarily, just long enough for him to see how swollen Harry’s lips already are, how pink his cheeks have become, how focused his eyes are on Louis and only Louis. He reattaches their lips whilst kneeling on the couch, grabbing Harry’s shoulder for balance. Harry gets the hint, pulling him closer, and lets Louis straddle his legs. They grip onto each other like a lifeline, and Louis has never felt so warm beneath someone’s touch before.  
     Harry’s fingers dig into Louis’ scalp, and he doesn’t mean to moan. He's almost embarrassed, actually, until Harry’s kiss grows a bit more frantic, his hips grinding up into Louis’ languidly. He pulls off Louis to murmur into his neck slowly, “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”  
     Louis swallows audibly, rolling his head to the side to allow Harry more room. He bites at his ear, licks at his jaw, sucks on his neck. Louis can't see straight.  
     He whimpers when Harry drags his lips back up to Louis’, kissing him fervently once more, and Louis can’t stand how well they fit together. He thought he built up the electricity between them, the fire and heat, but no. It’s too intense; he feels like he’s physically being pulled into Harry, and he never wants to try to get away.  
     It’s a build up of everything, really. Of denying himself from Harry for five years, friendship and otherwise. Of the past nine months of shit - Zayn leaving, and then his own personal hell. Of the band coming to an end for the time being, and honestly, that might be the one that’s burrowing its way in the most. For years, Louis has had his life mapped out with these boys by his side, and now, it’s coming to an abrupt stop. He can’t lose his best friends. He can’t lose his Harry. He can’t lose any of it.  
     He grips Harry harder, afraid to let any of this slip away, and it’s as if Harry senses his fear. He grips Louis tighter, moving his hands everywhere; his hair, shoulders, back, ass, thighs, and back up again.  
     “Never wanna stop kissing you,” Harry admits in between breaths.  
     Louis ducks down to suck a mark below Harry’s collar. “Gonna have to eventually. Need to get out there and perform in, like, 15 minutes?”  
     Harry groans. “Nope. Show is canceled. Can’t stop touching you.” And like he’s trying to prove himself, he cups Louis, half hard, through his trousers, squeezing. The noise Louis makes is borderline pornographic.  
     “Harry, _fuck_ , cut it out, we have to get out there now.” His words are undermined by the way his hips seem to move on their own accord, dropping down into Harry’s hand, seeking more pressure. Harry connects their lips again, biting gently, then slipping his tongue inside. Louis feels drunk, can’t get enough, and he presses in as close as he can get when a loud knock comes at the door.  
     “Louis, we need you in two minutes!” Niall says from the other side. “Is Harry in there with you?”  
     Louis pulls off, panting heavily, trying to ignore how flushed Harry is and how he’s still rocking his hips up into Louis’.  
     “Um, yeah, Harry’s in here,” Louis yells back, eyes widening when he hears how strangled his voice is. Harry chokes out a laugh, not bothering to try to hide it.  
     “‘kay, get your arses out here!”  
     Louis takes a minute to catch his breath, running his fingers across his lips, praying his hair isn’t messy. Lou and Lottie will murder him.  
     Harry puts his hand on Louis’ chest, and Louis knows he must be able to feel how quickly his heart is beating beneath his palm. Harry speaks first. “So, that went from zero to 100, yeah?”  
     He huffs out a laugh. “Are you okay with that?”  
     Harry’s nod is instant. “Of course. I just didn’t expect it, is all. It was a lot, definitely. But I’m happy. You mean so much to me, and that’s all I wanted to tell you. ‘t’s what I told Niall and Liam, too.” He smiles. “The rest was just an added surprise. A good surprise.”  
     “Did you end up shoving your tongue down their throats too?”  
     “Maybe.”  
     “Fuck off,” Louis says, laughing, pushing Harry back down onto the couch as he stands up. He walks over to the mirror, and straightens out his jacket, fixing the sleeves. Harry shuffles over, standing behind him, and puts his hands on Louis’ hips. “So gorgeous, Louis.”  
     “Fuck off,” he repeats with a smile, but leans back into Harry’s touch, closing his eyes. Harry turns him around, pressing their foreheads together.  
     “This isn’t a goodbye thing, right? I can’t have you and then have to give you up so soon. I can’t do that.”  
     Louis brushes his nose against Harry’s, the same way he did five years ago, and leans in so slowly, he can nearly feel Harry’s kiss before he even touches him. Their lips move together, unhurriedly, and Louis is completely aware of the way Harry’s breath is unsteady, nervous and turned on. He places his hands on either side of Harry’s jaw, kissing him deeper, making Harry groan quietly. When he pulls away, Harry is looking at him, vulnerable and raw, and for once, Louis doesn’t feel like he needs to turn away.  
     “No, love, this isn’t goodbye.”  
     Harry wraps his arms around him, squeezing tightly, Louis hugging back with just as much force.  
     “We have to get out there, H.”  
     “Mhmm.”  
     They stand there together for a few more moments before Harry speaks again.  
     “First time I ever saw you, I wanted to talk to you because you looked like a kid I went to school with back at Holmes Chapel. And it made me feel more comfortable, like a piece of home was with me.” Louis can feel Harry’s smile against the top of his head. “And then I got to know you, and you felt like home, anyway.”  
     Louis laughs as he pulls away from Harry’s embrace, covering up the lump in his throat. “You never told me that.”  
     Harry shrugs. “There’s a lot I never told you.”  
     He pretends to scoff. “And here I am thinking, we know all of each other’s secrets.”  
     The dimple appears. “Also never told you after one of the shows earlier this year, I had to get myself off back at the hotel thinking about how good you looked.”  
     Louis is usually quick with the comebacks, but he’s stunned, and the look on his face clearly gives it away. “ _Definitely_ haven’t ever thought about _you_ while I’m wanking, Harold,” he manages to stammer out.  
     “Yeah, me either, I was totally lying.” Harry winks.  
     Louis bites his bottom lip. He’s never this candid, but fuck, this is it. This is their last night together and if the fear doesn’t propel him forward, nothing will. “Get myself off thinking about you all the fucking time,” he says.  
     Harry laughs. “Me too, babe.”  
     Louis doesn’t feel like himself when he punches Harry on the arm and then leans up to kiss him on the cheek. He doesn’t feel like himself when he lets Harry whisper into his ear about how good he tastes, how good his stubble feels when they kiss, how he wants to feel it everywhere else. He doesn’t feel like himself when he returns the compliments, telling Harry how sexy he looks dressed up in his Gucci suit, how he’d been dreaming about his hands on him for so long. He doesn’t feel like himself when he reaches down to intertwine their fingers before they walk out to perform one last time.

     Louis doesn’t feel like himself. He feels better.

* * *

     Just before they’re set to go on stage, the four boys huddle up together. Louis wraps his arms around Liam and Niall, staring directly at Harry across from him. They stand as close as possible, not moving, not speaking, until Niall says, “I absolutely love you lads. You don’t even know.”

     Louis nods, unable to add on.  
     “You all heard what I had to say earlier,” Harry says, eyes shining. “But I’ll say it again, together. You have changed my life in more ways that I can ever say. You are my family, my home away from home, and no matter what happens to us in the future, you three are the most important people in my life. We have something no one else gets, and I am beyond grateful. Love you so much.”  
     Liam squeezes Harry’s shoulder. Niall wipes a tear away, and then laughs. “Harry, you can’t make me cry twice in one day, you arse.”  
     Louis thinks if he tries to speak, he’ll cry, too.  
     “This has just been… Such a shit year,” Liam says, his laughter weak and a bit strained.  
     Louis looks up at Harry. Harry smirks, locking eyes with him. “I don’t know, Li, I think it’s been pretty okay.”  
     Louis chokes back a laugh, his eyes watery. “Just okay, Styles?”  
     Harry breaks out the dimple. “Brilliant, actually.”  
     Liam doesn’t catch on, thank God. “So much fucking drama this year, so many fucking things we couldn’t control...” He trails off. “I wouldn’t change a thing, if it meant that in the end, we’d be here right now.”  
     Louis gives up on holding back tears. “Okay, fuck you, Payno. I was doing okay.”  
     Harry and Niall scoff. “Yeah, sure, Tommo. You’ve been teary for about 48 hours straight,” Niall laughs.  
     “Oi, fuck you all.”  
     Harry smiles and holds his hand out. Louis grabs without hesitation. “One last time, guys.”  
     Niall and Liam put their hands on top of Louis and Harry’s, chanting their pre-concert ritual, drawing it out as long as possible, hugging their final hug.  
     They walk out on stage together. Somehow, after five years, the noise from the crowd is still deafening.

* * *

     The boys have their own after party, laughing and drinking into the late hours of the night. All of their families, friends, and colleagues are there, but after mingling with just about everyone, Louis feels content to stick to Lottie and Gemma. It feels comfortable and familiar, something he apparently craves after all of the imminent changes happening so quickly in his life.

     Not yet drunk but a bit beyond tipsy, Louis can’t help the blush that creeps up the back of his neck when he feels Harry’s gaze on him from across the room. They’ve spent a lot of time apart, a lot of time undermining each other’s existence, but he still knows all of Harry’s quirks, habits, mannerisms… He still knows when Harry’s attention is completely focused on him.  
     Lottie excuses herself as Gemma looks over Louis’s shoulder and winks. She turns to Louis. “I think that even if you and my brother weren’t in the same band together, you would have found each other, anyway,” she says, smiling slightly. Louis blinks, his eyelids heavy. Okay, maybe more than just beyond tipsy. “He really loves you, you know? You’re a really important person to him. You always have been. I’m very glad you’re a part of his life. And I know you feel the same, yeah?”  
     Louis ducks his head down when he smiles. “I do.”  
     Gemma grins. “Thought so.” She takes a sip of her drink before she says, “Don’t be a stranger, okay? We’d miss you.”  
     “Won’t be able to keep me away,” Louis says, embarrassed that he can’t keep his cheeks from going pink once more. “He’s still my best friend.”  
     Gemma snorts. “Of course, Louis.”  
     Harry saunters over then, puts his hand on Louis’s shoulder, and squeezes lightly.  
     “Let me know when you want to get out of here,” he says, his voice slow and steady.  
     Louis doesn’t know if he’s talking to him or Gemma, but he takes a leap of faith and answers anyway. “‘m ready now.”  
     Harry’s grip on his shoulder tightens. “Let’s go.”  
     They say their goodbye’s around the room, and as Harry leads Louis out the door, Louis tries to recall the last time the two of them left a party together. Or left together anywhere, for that matter. But when Harry links their hands together, his dimple popping out almost shyly, Louis can’t be bothered to remember.

* * *

     Harry’s driver slowly weaves in and out of traffic, unusual for half two in the morning, but it gives Louis time to try to calm his nerves. It’s just Harry, _just Harry_ , and he nearly laughs at how weak that argument is.

     Harry slides over across the seat and Louis almost immediately melts into his touch, anxiety bubbling when he feels Harry’s breath against his neck.  
     “There’s a house by my own that’s always decked out for Christmas. Thousands of lights, wreaths, ornaments on all the trees outside. And they have this unbelievable tree they set up in front of their windows. You can tell it’s, like, 20 feet tall. Amazing.”  
     Louis smiles. “Sounds nice.”  
     “It is. Wanna see it?”  
     He hums. “Okay.”  
     Harry tells the driver to stop about five houses before his own and Louis’ eyes widen at the vision before him. It’s breathtaking, honestly. The house is enormous, unfit for this part of London, but that’s what makes the lights look so magnificent, Louis thinks. The entire shell of the home is outlined in soft, twinkling lights, and garnish twists its way up every column. A spotlight shines on the wreath, prominent on the side of the house, and the deep reds and greens look beautiful against the contrast of the brickwork. The gate is adorned in lights, too, but it doesn’t take away from the main attraction: the Christmas tree. Even though they’re separated by a yard, driveway, and front door, Louis feels at home within this stranger’s house. The tree is decorated impeccably, tall and strong, and it reminds him of his own mum’s Christmas tree. Some of his best memories from his childhood were centered around the tree his mother put together. Though not always full and not always big, it was always comfortable and it was always theirs. And Louis feels so, so lucky. Past and present.  
     He finds his voice after a moment. “Thanks, Haz. It’s really lovely.”  
     Harry kisses the top of Louis’ head. “Can’t believe it’s over.”  
     Louis frowns. “Christmas? It’s only the 13th, Harry. Well, technically the 14th now…”  
     “No, Louis. The band. All of this.” He leans in close to the driver. “Thank you. We can keep going back to my home.”  
     Louis acts on the surge of courage he feels and put his hand on the inside of Harry’s thigh. He squeezes and he hears Harry’s breath hitch. He’s glad he’s not the only one affected. “You shut your fucking mouth, Styles,” he murmurs quietly. Harry laughs. “It’s over for now. We’ve gone through too much to let it all go, yeah?”  
     Harry dips down to trace his lips across Louis’ jaw. He can’t help his hands from trembling. “Do you mean the band, Lou, or us?”  
     Louis leans in closer and whispers, “Yes.”  
     Harry connects his lips with Louis’, moving slowly, and they don’t pull apart until the driver uncomfortably clears his throat, signaling their arrival.  
     They move languidly inside, Harry turning on lights as they go, never not touching any part of Louis. By the time they make it to the bottom of the staircase, Louis thinks he might explode, from how badly he wants Harry, how badly he wants everything.  
     “Lou...” Harry’s eyes are half closed when he pulls Louis close to him, placing his hands on Louis’ hips, and exhales heavily when he bows down to kiss Louis for what feels like the hundredth time that night. Louis can’t get enough.  
     Harry backs him up against the wall, kissing him deeply, his tongue pushing into Louis’ mouth, which Louis allows immediately. He surges up, vaguely aware that he has to stand on his tiptoes to kiss Harry back the way he wants to, and if Harry knows, he doesn’t say anything. He does let out a deep groan, though, when Louis digs his nails into Harry’s scalp, twisting his hair, dragging his fingers down his throat. Louis is about two seconds from pulling Harry flush against him, letting Harry grind his hips into Louis’, when he hears footsteps upstairs. Harry jumps back, his eyes wide.  
     “Fuck,” he whispers, running his hand through his hair.  
     “Who the fuck is that?” Louis asks.  
     “My mum, probably. I totally forgot I told her and Robin that they could stay here after the show. Fuck.”  
     Louis lets his head fall back against the wall, the words _I’ll pay for a hotel_ on the tip of his tongue, when Harry dips down to bite at Louis’ earlobe.  
     “Lou… Louis, can you be quiet? If we go upstairs, I’m not gonna be able to keep my hands off you, and my mum can’t hear us. Tell me you can be quiet,” he pleads. “Please,” he tacks on before he starts sucking a bruise into Louis’ neck.  
     Louis moans. “Harry, upstairs, I’ll be quiet, I’ll do anything, just take me upstairs.”  
     Harry looks nearly pained when he pulls away. “I want you so fucking bad.”  
     Louis usually isn’t taken aback by Harry’s honesty, but this time, he wasn’t expecting such sincerity. He nearly chokes when he says, “You can have me.”

     Louis feels a hell of a lot more relaxed when he hears Harry trip up the stairs behind him.

* * *

 

     It should be more awkward sleeping with your best friend for the first time, Louis thinks for a split second. He’s seen Harry naked countless times, but never like this, hard and panting, pulling Louis’ shirt off over his head, mumbling how badly he wants him, how long he’s waited to put his hands all over him. The last word Louis would use to describe how he feels right now is “awkward.”  
     Harry’s bedroom is nearly pitch black, causing Louis’s senses to heighten with every touch. His eyes won’t adjust to the darkness fast enough and he has no idea what Harry will do next until he actually does it. By the time they’re both down to just underwear, he thinks he might scream; from being turned on, from being on edge, from anticipation.  
     “I know, baby, I hear you, but you have to be quiet,” Harry says against Louis’ neck, mouthing at his jaw, his breath hot. Louis didn’t realize he was saying anything out loud.  
     Harry sits back on his knees and taps at Louis’ hip, asking silently for permission. Louis complies, lifting himself off the bed, allowing Harry to pull his briefs all the way down, his cock hard and heavy, slapping against his stomach. Harry’s eyes must be adjusted to the lack of light in the room, because as soon as Louis is completely naked, Harry groans.  
     “You’re so fucking gorgeous, I’m…” He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t have to. He bends down quickly, kissing Louis at the jut of his hip once, and then, that’s _it_. The feeling of his lips around Louis’ cock, his hand pumping at the base, has Louis cursing under his breath, barely remembering he has to be quiet if he wants this to actually happen.  
     This is _so_ different from the boy who was afraid to lean in and kiss him five years ago. Louis remembers Harry trembling under Louis’ hands, just from being touched, just from being allowed to reciprocate. Now, he takes charge, bobbing his head with ease, murmuring words of encouragement whenever he pulls off. He kisses Louis’ inner thighs, whispering _I can’t believe I get to do this, would do anything to fucking hear you moan for me right now_ , and takes Louis back down all the way. Louis can feel it when he hits the back of Harry’s throat, and he has to dig his nails into his thighs to not buck up into the warmth of Harry’s mouth.  
     Harry moves like he’s done this a hundred times, and Louis isn’t sure what to think about that. Louis has never been with another man before, and doesn’t really know quite what to expect, but if everything else with Harry is this mind-numbingly good, he’s willing to override his unwarranted jealousy.  
     He flicks his tongue over the head of Louis’ dick, Louis twitching into his mouth, gripping at Harry’s hair, pushing it out of his face. He wants to see, needs to make sure this is real. Harry hollows his cheeks, then pulls off completely, tapping Louis’ cock against his lips.  
     “Christ, you love that dick, don’t you?” Louis says, trying to come off as sarcastic or nonchalant, even, but he sounds completely overwhelmed instead. He groans when Harry sinks down quickly once, then pulls off with a pop.  
     “You have no idea, baby,” Harry says, winking, and slides back down immediately.  
     Louis’ eyes have completely adjusted to the darkness, and now, he wishes they hadn’t. He can see Harry’s lips on his cock, licking down his length, his hand pumping up and down, and it’s one of the hottest thing he’s ever watched. Harry sucks him off like it’s all he’s wanted for so long, and the thought makes heat coil in the pit of Louis’ stomach.  
     He tries to pull Harry off, but instead, Harry takes it as a challenge, going deeper, gripping Louis’ thighs harder. Louis can’t hold back a moan and Harry’s eyes flash up to his face, a silent warning that he needs to keep his mouth shut.  
     “Harry, I’m too close, you have to stop.”  
     Harry sits up, still pumping Louis. “That’s the point, want you to come, bet you look so fucking good, babe.”  
     Louis tries to bite back a groan - fails - and manages to weakly get out, “No. Want… Want you to fuck me.” Harry stops at that.  
     “Have you ever…”  
     “No.”  
     He lets out a shaky breath, hand still on Louis’ cock, thumbing at the head, making Louis jerk involuntarily. “Are you sure?” he whispers.  
     “Harry, I usually get what I want. You, of all people, know I have a very hard time when people say no to me.” Harry smirks at that. “So when I tell you I’m not above begging for you to fuck me, that should tell you how bad I want it.” Deep breath. “How bad I want you.”  
     Harry squeezes his eyes shut. “Okay, yeah, I’m gonna fuck you.” He bends down one more time, taking Louis deep in his mouth again, inhaling deeply, tongue moving relentlessly.  
     “Harry, Christ, that’s _enough_.”  
     He pulls off, dimple popping out, and murmurs, “You taste so good, Louis. I knew you would.”  
     Louis takes a moment, trying to steady his breathing, and reaches down to squeeze Harry through his briefs. He feels him fully hard and hot beneath his touch, and Harry cants his hips forward. Harry’s breath catches, and he nearly falls forward. Louis is relieved, knowing he isn’t the only one a bit unstable, a bit on the edge.  
     “Been dreaming of your hands on me for years, Lou,” Harry whispers through gritted teeth. Louis whines. “But I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for even longer. Christ, you’re so hot, let me…” He trails off, pulling himself out of Louis’ grip, and reaches at his bedside table for a condom and lube, presumably.  
     Louis tries to relax, knowing this is about to happen. It’s one thing to think about it in the privacy of his own blackened bedroom, alone, pumping his hips up into the grip of his own fist, sweating into the sheets. But it’s a whole other concept watching Harry pull off his briefs, coating his fingers in lube, looking at Harry like he wants to devour him.  
     He gets a good look at Harry for the first time, and his eyes widen, making Harry smirk.  
     “Harry, fuck, you’re _big_ ,” he says, not bothering to hide the ache in his voice, and Harry laughs. Louis feels a little more relaxed, knowing he can still make Harry smile in any situation, apparently, but _fuck_ , Harry is huge.  
     “Lou, calm down, all I wanna do is make everything feel good for you, ‘kay?”  
     Louis lays down flat on his back on Harry’s bed, spreading his legs apart, covering his face with his hands. “Okay, okay. I trust you.”  
     Harry shivers, kissing Louis sweetly and swiftly on the lips before ducking down to take Louis in his mouth again as he slowly presses his first finger inside. Louis shakes at the sensation; it’s nothing he hasn’t done before, but it’s completely different coming from someone else. Coming from Harry. He works his way up to two fingers, then three, spreading them out, thrusting them in and out in time with Louis’ quiet moans, continuously asking _Are you good?_ , as if the bastard couldn’t tell by Louis’ reactions. It didn’t take long for it to go from feeling nice to feeling _too much_. And when Harry hits Louis’ prostate straight on, making Louis cry out, Harry shushes him immediately.  
     “Harry, enough, ‘m ready, I swear,” he says, undermining his words but thrusting onto Harry’s fingers harder.  
     Harry swallows hard as he pulls his fingers out, reaching for the condom. He rips it open, but pauses, and looks at Louis. “Tell me if it’s a lot, okay?”  
     Louis nods. “It’s already a lot.”  
     He frowns. “I’m serious, Louis. I’m not gonna let this get all fucked up just because I can’t control myself around you. God.” He laces his fingers through Louis’, and presses a kiss to the back of his palm. “I’ll do anything, Lou. If you want me to wait, I will. If you don’t wanna do this at all, we won’t.” Louis can tell how honest he’s being, even though it clearly pains Harry to say it, and he can’t seem to get rid of the lump in his throat, no matter how many times he swallows. When he looks back later on, this will be the moment he realizes just how much Harry loves him.  
     “Love, I’m fucking terrified, but in a good way, yeah? Want you to fuck me, want you always, I promise.”  
     Harry nods quickly, hovering above Louis, kissing him on the cheek, forehead, nose, lips. He slides the condom onto his cock, slicks himself up with lube, and lines himself up with Louis’ entrance. Louis holds his breath when Harry starts to push in.  
     And it hurts. A lot. He bites down on his bottom lip to prevent himself from telling Harry to stop. But Harry isn’t stupid.  
     “Lou? Need me to stop?” Louis can tell how hard it is for Harry to stop moving and ask that question, based on the way his arms and shoulders are wracked with tremors. Louis can feel himself shaking, too.  
     “No, just… Give me a minute. You’re fucking huge, remember?”  
     Harry’s lips twitch into a quick smile. “Okay, I won’t move.”  
     “Kiss me, yeah?”  
     Harry complies instantly, sliding his tongue into Louis’ mouth, balancing on one forearm, the other hand cupping Louis’ jaw.  
     A minute or two passes, and Louis’ discomfort lessens considerably. He starts clenching down on Harry, tiny moans slipping from his mouth, and Harry nudges forward a fraction of an inch.  
     “Good? Can I…” He stutters, his eyes falling shut. “Can I keep going?”  
     Louis clears his throat. “Yeah, go, Haz.”  
     Harry brackets Louis’ head with his arms as he pushes in the rest of the way, his hips flush against Louis’ ass. They both let out broken sounds together, too loud with Anne and Robin in the next room, and Harry lets his forehead rest against Louis’.  
     “Babe,” he breathes. “Have to be quiet.”  
     “That’s a little hypocritical of you, don’t you think?” Louis says, getting a hand around himself. “And fuck you, I have your giant cock literally lodged in my arse and you have the audacity to tell me to--”  
     The rest of Louis’ words are cut off when Harry pulls all the way out and slams back in, effectively shutting him up completely. And then he immediately slows down, his thrusts gentle, with a dragging, steady pace.  
     Relentless.  
     When he nudges up against Louis’ prostate again, Louis has to turn his face into the pillow completely, afraid he might actually scream. He’s never felt like this before, never thought he could feel like this. He almost tells Harry it’s too much, especially when Harry’s looking at him that way, like he’s the best thing he’s ever seen.  
     He couldn’t look away from Harry if he tried, though, couldn’t deny himself of this, even if he wanted to.  
     In the rare moments that Louis has allowed himself to think about what sex with Harry would be like, he never imagined it to be like this. He always pictured it to be rushed, desperate, loud. He didn’t think he would be able to feel every inch of Harry’s cock, sliding in and out unhurriedly. He didn’t think he’d be able to feel Harry’s pulse against his own lips, where he can’t seem to stop sloppily kissing his neck. He didn’t think Harry would praise him over and over, sweaty curls falling into Louis’ face, Louis unable to answer from the sheer feeling of being so overwhelmed, he thinks his heart might burst inside his chest. He didn’t think any of this would happen, and it’s so much better.  
     The way Harry is staring at Louis makes him look impossibly young; Louis feels like he’s catching a glimpse of the Harry he first loved, and it makes his heart ache. And it shouldn’t be so hot when Harry starts saying things like _look how good you are for me, taking it so well, so fucking tight, waited so fucking long to see you come apart for me, wish you could be louder, you feel so bloody incredible baby_ , especially while Louis is comparing him in his head to the innocent, lanky boy he once knew. But it’s working. Even if it’s just bedroom talk, Louis knows there has to be some truth behind it, and that ends up being his undoing.  
     He starts jerking himself faster, chest heaving, a thin sheen of sweat across his forehead, unable to think of anything else other than more, not enough, more. Harry starts thrusting faster, rhythm faltering, and Louis can tell he’s close.  
     “Are you gonna come for me, Lou? Want you to. Want you to come all over my fist,” he groans as he reaches down to replace Louis’ fist with his own.  
     “Gonna come,” he whimpers, jaw slack. He thinks that right now, in this moment, he would do anything Harry asked him to do. He’s completely at his mercy. But then again, hasn’t he always been?  
     Harry drives his hips like mad into Louis’, all softness gone. Louis covers his mouth with his hand, trying to stifle the noises falling out of his mouth, but fails. He moans loudly when Harry slams right up against his prostate; he feels like he could cry from how good it is.  
     “Shh, baby, you sound so fucking good but you have to be quiet for me, okay?”  
     Louis mumbles a bunch of nonsense, and stifles his noises to a few dull whimpers.  
     “That’s my boy,” Harry groans, pushing in deeper and harder.  
     “Yes,” Louis hisses, “Yours.”  
     Harry chokes back a quiet sob. “Mine.”  
     When he presses his thumb down into the slit of Louis’ cock moments later, that’s all it takes. He comes hard, yelling out, Harry diving down to silence Louis with his lips, Louis’ hands yanking at his own hair as he attempts to work through his orgasm.  
     Harry stops thrusting, lifts his head up from Louis’, and look down at him pleadingly, beads of sweat on his upper lip. “Want me to stop?” he asks, panting, eyes glazed.  
     “No, fuck, keep going,” Louis says, sensitive, but desperate to see Harry fall off the edge alongside him.  
     Harry picks back up immediately, unable to break green on blue eye contact, and when Louis bites down at Harry’s shoulder, it only takes a few more rough thrusts for him to come soundlessly, collapsing onto Louis moments after, both of them trembling, even while wrapped up in the warmth of each other’s arms.

     Usually after Louis has sex, he crashes. And while he’s more tired now than he has ever been, he’s fighting sleep, just so he doesn’t waste any more time with Harry.  
     Harry keeps tracing his fingers across Louis’ skin, dipping into the dimples at the curve of his spine, feeling the letters of his _It is What it Is_ tattoo, mapping out freckles and scars.  
     “You know what you mean to me, right?” Louis whispers against Harry’s shoulder.  
     He can feel Harry’s smile before he sees it. “Didn’t I just say that to you, like, 10 hours ago?”  
     “Maybe. Sounds kind of familiar.”  
     Harry slips his fingers through Louis’ hair, scratching in the way he knows Louis loves. “Yeah, baby, I know what I mean to you.” His voice is soft, but it cracks in the middle.  
     Louis leans up to catch Harry’s lips in the most gentle kiss he’s ever given. He keeps his eyes closed when he pulls away, and can’t find the strength to open them again.  
     “Good. Never forget it, okay?”  
     Harry’s breathing is deep and even, and Louis thinks he’s fallen asleep. Louis is just about asleep himself when he hears a barely audible whisper, “Couldn’t if I tried.”

* * *

     When Louis wakes up the next morning, his hair is matted to his forehead in the least sexy way possible. His eyes itch from his contacts that he definitely should have removed the night before, and he shivers under the duvet, wishing he had on more than just a pair of briefs.  
     He shifts under the weight of Harry’s arm, causing Harry to groan and pull Louis in closer. He lets out a deep breath, but doesn’t wake up. Louis smiles, looking at the boy wrapped around him, his face framed in long, loose curls, skin nearly dripping in tattoos, body blooming with bruises and bites from Louis… He’s so bloody beautiful, and Louis feels like he’s drowning in it, has been drowning in it since the day he met him. But he’s finally giving in to it.  
     Reliving last night’s events, reliving the past five year’s events, Louis knows how much in his life is still so uncertain but this, right now… He feels very, very lucky.

     It’s been eight hours since the last time Louis kissed Harry, but now, no one’s keeping track.


End file.
